


Bad Timing

by Annie46fic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Frustration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 14:21:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/850558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annie46fic/pseuds/Annie46fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on following prompt:</p>
<p>Prompt: Timing issues - They get worked up and then have to run out on a case before things get going. Or the phone rings, the cat walks in, aliens invade again, another damned apocalypse, out of condoms, one of them gets kidnapped, all the potential delays available to the fandom setting, including reasons they can't wank either. A significant amount of time later, everyone's gonads are bright throbbing blue, they finally get to have sex and it's over in five minutes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Timing

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Bad Sex Fest challenge on LJ

The ghost is gone; a simple salt and burn and definitely something to celebrate.

 

Dean breaks out his best Jack Daniels and calls out for wings. The motel is one of the better ones they’ve stayed in and the beds look awfully inviting and, surprise, surprise, big enough for two. So, well fed and with enough alcohol in their system to set something alight it doesn’t take long for things to get steamy.

Sam looks delicious, a smear of barbeque sauce across his nose, eyes bright and happy. It’s a rare thing these days but Dean will take it, take Sam. He looks down at his shirt and his fumbling fingers find his buttons, tangling up in themselves as he tries to get them undone.

“Fuck that.” Sam licks his lips and leers, pulling the tails of Dean’s shirt and tugging it off over his head in one ungainly move. Dean wriggles a bit and his pants seem to have disappeared too. He grins down at Sam and thrusts out his hips, not so much as a hint as a command. Sam has somehow managed to get rid of his own pants and, for a moment, Dean takes in long, long legs, soft tanned skin and those flat abs that he just wants to bite. Sam’s cock is already half-hard and Dean licks his lips.

They don’t make it to the bed; kissing madly, hands groping desperately. Dean feels long, capable fingers wrap around his erection and he moans loudly enough to have his brother snicker, shake his head and cover Dean’s moans with his mouth. They are virtually swallowing each other whole, rutting against each other like randy rams, no finesse really.

Dean’s cell rings.

They ignore it in favor of falling to the floor, Sam’s mouth moving down Dean’s body licking and biting.

Dean’s cell keeps on ringing.

They continue to ignore it. Sam wrapping his mouth around Dean’s cock, deep-throating like the pro he is, really, really getting into it. Really really turned on now.

Garth’s voice; insistent and aggravating all at once.  
’Dean, there are rogue angels down in Kansas. We need back up and we need it fast. Only you can do this Dean. The world is in deep do-do again, and we need the Winchesters.’

Sam pulls off with an angry pop. His hair is all over the place, his pupils are blown and his voice, when he speaks, is hoarse.

“Fucking hell,” is all he says but it sums up the situation perfectly.

****

They dress a lot more gingerly than when they undressed.

Dean looks at his shirt, ripped at the tail where Sam yanked it off. Just looking at it makes him harder and he grits his teeth as he works his pants up his leg. Across the room Sam is in a similar state and zips up his jeans so carefully that Dean almost wants to laugh.

“Better wear a long shirt, Sammy,” he tries for funny but it comes out all low and needy. Sam grits his teeth and makes that all too familiar bitch face. For a moment they stare at each other and Dean has to thrust the heel of his hand against his hard-on.

“Maybe in the car.” Sam looks bright and hopeful again. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Yeah.” The thought is exciting. “We could.”

As it turns out they can’t.

Garth rings the minute Dean puts the Impala into gear and insists that Sam puts him on speaker. Sam looks pissed off and horny at the same time (which should be pretty difficult) and he has to keep adjusting himself which makes Dean feel exactly the same, heat making his face burn, his legs shake.

’You sound breathless, Sam. Garth is totally oblivious and a cock blocker. ’Are you alright?’

“Oh yeah.” Sam thinks he might die of blue balls before they even get to the angels. “I’m fine.”

Dean sent him a desperate look from across the car and gripped the wheel as if he might break it. Sam shifted on his seat and kept the phone gripped tight in his right hand because if he didn’t . . . .

They skidded to a halt outside an old abandoned church and Dean felt guilt warring with pleasure as he got, carefully, out of the car.

“Dean!” Garth was rushing towards him, all arms and legs. Said arms were flung wide open ready for his traditional Garth hug and Dean backed off, aware that his cock was still jutting against his zipper and that his whole body felt just the wrong side of sensitive.

Sam, who had been following, smashed into his back and Dean shuddered, the feel of Sam’s hardness against his ass not really helping. Sam moved a little, wriggling his hips and Dean resisted the temptation to lean into him and just let go.

“Y’all okay?” Garth frowned. “Need ya to be on top of your game ya idjits! There’s angels in there, that are not happy bunnies.”

Sam managed to nod but Dean could see that his cheeks were pink and the tips of his ears a burning red. Dean was aware that his own face was hot and he pulled down his tee-shirt in a futile attempt to hide his hard-on.

“I need reliable back up guys,” Garth was still talking and Sam winced wondering if he could be considered reliable at this moment. Dean seemed unable to form words and Sam found he was fixated on Dean’s mouth remembering where it might have been if Garth hadn’t have called at such an inopportune moment.

“You got it,” Sam cleared his throat and adjusted his pants. “Let’s go Dean,” he tried for enthusiastic but he wasn’t sure it was working. “Let’s get this thing done!”

As it turned out the angels were easier to get rid of than anyone thought. Weakened by their loss of grace and without their powers they had proved a pretty feeble foe and it was over pretty quickly.

“Good work guys.” Garth hugged first Sam and then Dean and both brothers had a hard time trying not to hump his leg. “We should go for a beer,” Garth drawled.

“No!” Both Winchesters spoke in unison.

“We’ve research to do.” Sam was backing away, hands up, jeans chafing in an uncomfortably delightful way.

“Yeah have to make a record of this for the journal.” Dean was virtually twitching, tucking his gun into his pocket rather than the back of his pants. “You know what its like.”

“But guys . . . .” Garth threw open his large arms and pulled them back. “It’s Bobby’s birthday, we should at least have one drink in remembrance.”

And they couldn’t really say no to that.

****

Dean was moving his foot slowly up Sam’s thigh and pressing it against his groin.

Sam wanted to slap the foot away but he was so fucking close. God, he had to come soon or his balls would explode and that would be the end of it. Next to him Garth was droning on about Bobby and, as sentimental as it all was, Sam just wanted him to Shut the fuck up!.

“Dean, come on man.” Garth had stopped being maudlin and was moving on to something new. “Quick game of darts before you go, for old time’s sake.”

There was an audible sigh as Dean’s foot vanished from Sam’s aching and, frankly, swollen groin. Sam kept his hands on the table and began to violently shred the label on his beer bottle. Frustration was zipping through his body and he could see that Dean was in a similar state, his darts hardly hitting the target, his bow legs looking even more bowed than ever as he walked, carefully, back to Sam.

“I lost,” he gasped out. “Let’s just get the fuck out of here.”

They don’t actually make it into the motel.

They don’t even make it out of the Impala.

They don’t actually manage to remove any clothing.

As the car screeches into the car lot Dean turns to Sam and pulls him in for a kiss, his hand reaching straight for Sam’s zipper. Sam returns the kiss with such eagerness that Dean’s vision whites out. By the time he comes back to himself Sam’s jeans are soaking wet at the crotch and his face is as red as any beet Dean has ever seen.

“Are you fourteen, dude?” Dean barks angrily and then he follows the line of Sam’s hazy, sated gaze down to his own groin. “Okay,” his voice lowers and he grins sheepishly. “So it’s been a very frustrating day.”

“So.” Sam smiles all sexy and lazy. "You wanna go again?”

Dean reaches for Sam’s zipper and begins to pull it down, his cock actually twitching at the thought of round two.

His cell phone rings!

End


End file.
